


Primarch Daughters

by kishiriaz



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Fluff, Multi, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Weddings, unexpected babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kishiriaz/pseuds/kishiriaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Emperor of Mankind decides to give His Sons projects to bond over.  This idea probably sounded better when He was drunk. Part 2 of The Retirement AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primarch Daughters

Custodian Arlette watched the Emperor work. Deep in the bowels of the palace, the two sat in the laboratory where, over two centuries before, He had created the Astartes and the Primarchs. The Master of Mankind was looking at the screen of an electron microscope He had invented Himself before the Primarch Project began. His hands hovered to either side of the transparent box where a petri dish rested, His fingers moving in tiny, deliberate gestures.

Arlette knew that He was creating life again, but He hadn’t shared with her any details. Still, He had asked her to sit and witness what He began.

His fingers twitched, and she could see strands of DNA teased apart. Another motion and two strands zipped together. 

Arlette leaned forward, then her lips spread into a smile. +My Emperor! This is a female child!+

He looked at her. “There will be nine of them. “

Her expression became one of concern. +You aren’t replacing your sons, are you? I know Malcador thought you should make them all daughters, but+

“No, my dear. I’m going to give each child to a parenting team. It is my intention that these children bring my sons closer together.”

Arlette raised an eyebrow. +Respectfully, my Emperor, that sounds risky.+

“For some, it will be a reward. For instance, I’m almost finished with I/XX. Next I will start on III/X.”

Arlette continued to lean on her spear, unconvinced.

 

Three months later, the Emperor ordered all the primarchs back to Terra. This announcement was received with joy by the Warmaster, the Angel, the Gorgon, and the Phoenician. Others, such as Perturabo, Angron, and Konrad Curze, did more than a small bit of complaining on their way in.

The orders on arrival were for all 18 to come to one of the levels deep beneath the palace in duty robes. No armour, no formal attire. Just duty robes. Custodians would escort them to the location.

Horus Lupercal changed into green robes the colour of Terra’s vanished oceans. Since he was early, he made the trip to the apartments occupied by Primarch Sanguinius. The Angel was waiting for Horus, and sailed down from his third-floor bedroom on his outstretched wings, nearly taking out a decorative mobile in the process. Horus and Sanguinius came together in a bone-crushing embrace, the kiss they exchanged deep and full of longing. It had been only a handful of years since they’d last seen each other, but their absences grew more difficult with time, not less.

“Throne of Terra, it’s good to have you in my arms again,” Horus rumbled into the burgundy-red fabric of Sanguinius’s robes. Sanguinius was wearing a long red tunic with wide gold sleeves and a red hooded capelet with the crest of the Blood Angels on the breast. His wings trembled with emotion although his facial expression was tranquil.

“When I received the order, I didn’t know what I was happier about, returning to Terra and Father or the prospect of seeing you,” Sanguinius told him. 

“It’s like my birthday and every holiday we celebrate, all in one day,” Horus agreed, his voice slightly choked despite his smile. He rested his forehead against Sanguinius’s and stroked his partner’s long hair. 

“Any idea what Father has summoned us for?” Sanguinius asked.

“I’m wondering if he’s going to show us the project for which he left the Great Crusade,” Horus replied.

Before they could speculate further, the doors opened, revealing four golden-clad member of the Adeptus Custodes. Horus and Sanguinius followed them, hand in hand.

It took a long time to reach the designated chamber. Ferrus Manus and Fulgrim were already there, as were Jaghatai Khan, Vulkan, and Magnus. They went through a round of embracing and greeting each other, as all seven of them were friends. A moment later the dynamic changed as Perturabo arrived, whereupon the greetings became cooler, except for the ones between Perturabo and Magnus.

They were in an arched tunnel, not particularly large or small. It was spacious enough for them to mingle with each other and talk as other primarchs joined them. The hall ended in double doors of blackened metal, featureless beyond wrought iron handles. 

Angron and Alpharius were the last to arrive. Most of the brothers had never met Alpharius, being the last of the family to be discovered. He was uncommonly short, the size of a tall Astartes. Nonetheless he was clearly a primarch, and with his shaven head he closely resembled Lorgar, who was the next smallest of the brothers.

The black doors swung open. The Emperor Himself stood before them, dressed in a long-sleeved white robe, his hair bound by a simple gold filet rather than the laurel crown. The group grew silent and the primarchs each lowered to one knee.

“Rise, my sons,” the Emperor told them. “I have brought you here to give you gifts.”

They stood. The Emperor was smiling benignly.

“Until now, you have all been the fathers of your legions, of thousands of sons. You yourselves are all flesh of my flesh. This is altogether too much masculinity, and some years ago, I began to ask myself if perhaps a feminine element needed to be brought into our Imperial family. A year ago, I began to do just that. Follow me.”

The Emperor turned and walked into the room beyond. It was full of the usual equipment associated with the entryway of a clean room. They went down a narrow hallway, then through a research lab, and finally to the white sliding door of the laboratory itself.

The Emperor turned. “Inside this laboratory, you will find nine incubation chambers. The design will likely be familiar to you. On each you will find two legion numbers. Find yours.”

The primarchs filed in. All of them were giving each other worried looks. Alpharius and Lion El’Johnson had the first incubator, Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus the next, Perturabo and Rogal Dorn the third. Then the Khan and Angron, Leman Russ and Magnus, Konrad Curze and Corvus Corax, Sanguinius and Horus, Roboute Guilliman and Lorgar, and Mortarion and Vulkan.

“Some of you are already couples,” the Emperor went on. “Some of you are rivals and some of you don’t know each other at all. Many millennia ago, there was a practice in some schools of pairing up students in mock parenting exercises. You are not half-grown children. You are adults, and more to the point, my sons. I have permitted rivalries to exist between you, and I regret that. In order to give you something to bond over, gentlemen, I present to you your daughters.”

More than a few of them gasped. Angron growled audibly. Fulgrim’s and Ferrus’s eyes met in astonishment. Konrad Curze made a hissing noise that was covered by the sound of the top panels rising simultaneously.

Inside each incubator lay a female infant. Some of the primarchs reached in immediately. Others took a moment to get over the shock. A few didn’t pick up their baby at all.

The Emperor watched His sons’ reactions to their new parenthoods with no small amount of amusement. Lion and Alpharius were both staring with horror into the incubator, neither of them making a move to touch the infant inside. Russ and Magnus both seemed absolutely delighted. Russ was holding the baby with Magnus smiling rather unexpectedly. Jagathai Khan seemed content; he had children of his own already, but Angron removed himself from the chamber.

Perturabo immediately reached down to lift the baby created out of his and Rogal Dorn’s DNA. Dorn wanted a turn after a few minutes, but Perturabo wasn’t ready to let go. Mortarion yielded all custody to Vulkan, and followed Angron out of the chamber. Vulkan, like Khan, was already a parent and walked over to the White Scar with his daughter in his arms, to discuss what their wives’ reactions would be. 

Gulliman and Lorgar were glaring at each other across the incubator. The Emperor could feel their mutual hatred blazing. Hopefully, the child would give them something in common to prevent them from dragging their legions into mutual destruction. 

“You are NOT GOING TO EAT THE BABY!” Corvus Corax shouted at Konrad Curze, who just shrugged and asked, “Why not, if you’re not going to?”

“Because it’s a baby, not a rat or a feral dog.”

“Fine. You take care of it, then.”

Corax looked down at the pale, dark-haired infant in his arms. “She is not an ‘it’. And her name is Corvina.”

Curze cocked his head to the side, birdlike. “Well, that’s a good name anyway.” He walked away, his tattered, blood-stiffened, black robes rustling behind him.

The pair that seemed happiest was Ferrus Manus and Fulgrim. Both were teary-eyed, with Fulgrim holding the baby and Ferrus enclosing the two of them in his silver arms. Fulgrim looked up at the Emperor and said, “Her name is Felicity and we love her.”

“We have to get back to your quarters,” Ferrus said. “We need baby milk for her, and clothes, and a cradle, and I’ll make her furniture.”

“I’ll get her all sorts of learning toys, and music boxes, and we must line up some tutors…” 

As Ferrus and Fulgrim were about to leave the room, Fulgrim stopped to kiss the Emperor’s cheek. “Thank you.”

That left Horus and Sanguinius. Despite the two primarchs’ devotion to each other, they seemed less than pleased about the Emperor’s latest gift. Horus was holding the baby, a grim expression on his face. Sanguinius was standing with his back against a wall, watching him.

The Emperor came to stand with them. “I thought you would react more like Fulgrim and Ferrus.”

“We aren’t Fulgrim and Ferrus,” Horus said.

“They are much more like a traditional marriage than we are,” Sanguinius said, coming forward. “They had a wedding. They observe stereotypical gender roles. We haven’t felt the need for a wedding and we both maintain our own households independently. “

“We don’t know how this baby will fit into our lives,” Horus took over. 

“No one ever does,” the Emperor told them.

“That is a very neat answer,” Horus grumbled. “In a normal situation, the couple in question would at least have been trying for a baby. We certainly weren’t. We don’t spend nearly the amount of time together that we would like.”

“I know,” the Emperor told them. “I want you to fix that.”

Horus and Sanguinius exchanged a guarded look, then Horus said, “If it’s your will that we be together more often, we will certainly not argue with it. Right now, we need to go to our quarters and have them set up with a nursery.”

***  
“Dorn, it’s my turn to hold the baby. You’ve had her for an hour now.”

Rogal Dorn continued to hold the newborn he’d been told to share with Perturabo. “You’re the one keeping her in your quarters. I should have more time to hold her then. Besides, she’s already spit up on me once.”

“I shall refrain about making jokes about you making our daughter sick.”

“Yes, you shall.” Dorn smiled down at the infant girl who was curled in the crook of his arm, fingers moving in a random pattern as she slept. 

“How much do you know about parenting, anyway?” Perturabo asked.

“Probably as much as you do, but there are books we can consult, and professionals we can hire.”

“No,” Perturabo said firmly. “I refuse to hand over my child’s life to someone who would do it for pay.”

Dorn looked up at him. “What kind of upbringing did you have?”

“One I don’t want to inflict on another. My adopted father was the Tyrant of Olympia, and he came by that title quite honestly. He was strict, he was demanding and he was cruel. I intend to be the precise opposite. This little one will be loved, and encouraged, and always know her worth.”

Dorn looked down at the baby again, placed a tender kiss on her forehead, and handed her to Perturabo. “You need time with her more than I. I was raised by my grandfather, and from what you’ve said, he was precisely the opposite of your adopted father. For instance, I never refer to him as my ‘adopted grandfather’ because of the love I had for the man, and still do.”

Perturabo took the baby into his arms. She made a snorting noise in her sleep. “I may have to ask you for real-life examples, then.”

“I don’t mind. We are going to have to get some hired help, though. She’ll need teachers and nannies when both of us are busy. I assure you it’s possible to be a child with such servants and still know that you’re loved. I was.”

Perturabo leaned back in his chair. “I suppose you’re right.” He kissed the baby and placed her in a bassinet that stood on the table. 

“What do you want to teach her?” Dorn asked.

“What she wants to learn. I’m disposed towards engineering and visual arts, of course.”

“So am I. You have excellent taste, I must say, looking at the pieces you have here in your quarters.”

“Thank you. These are mostly reproductions. I keep originals in my sanctum.”

Dorn raised an eyebrow at him. “You have a sanctum?”

“I do. After being raised by Dammekos, I feel best if I have a place that only I can access.”

“I wouldn’t say I have a sanctum, but I do have a decent collection of art, if I may say so myself.”

“I would like to be the judge of that.”

To his surprise, Dorn said, “Pick up the baby and we can go to the Phalanx.”

***  
Ankeara and Kharn stood against the wall outside the practice arena. From the sounds of it, Angron was tearing it apart with his bare hands.

“This is more than the Nails,” Ankeara said to the equerry.

“Your grandfather presented the eighteen primarchs with nine baby girls, made from their DNA, to be raised as a way of forcing your uncles to cooperate,” Kharn said. “One of them was made with Angron’s and Jagatai Khan’s genes.”

Ankeara raised a hand to her lips. “Oh no.”

“Konrad Curze was quite angry as well.”

“My father doesn’t just feel angry,” Ankeara told him. “He feels violated. Curze might as well, but I don’t know him so I can’t say. The High-Riders tried breeding Angron, and it didn’t work. He accidentally hurt one woman badly, and with the others, it just didn’t take. They also whored him out to any of their friends who asked. “

Kharn sighed.

“This is just another case of my father not being allowed to have a right to his own body. The Emperor doesn’t realize how badly he just erred. Angron is not going to forgive this one at all.” She looked at Kharn. “What happened to the baby?”

“Khan said he’d take it to his wife to raise with his other children. “

Ankeara nodded. “I think she has a decent life ahead of her, then.”

***

“It’s your turn to feed Baby,” Horus muttered to Sanguinius. The two primarchs had gone to bed in Horus’s quarters with the baby in a cot beside them. They had fed her for the first time, which was far less romantic than either had imagined. They had gone to sleep after that. Three hours later, their offspring was sobbing.

“My turn to feed Baby? I fed her last.”

“I changed her nappy, remember?”

“And I had to take over from you, because you don’t know how to do it.” 

“Fine.” Horus rolled out of bed, put on his bathrobe, and picked up the infant. He reached into the supply of ready-heated baby milk bottles and popped the nipple into her mouth. She quieted immediately. He sat down with his back against the headboard and let the baby eat.

Sanguinius snuggled his head against Horus’s shoulder. “She looks like you.”

“You think?”

“She has your eyes, and there’s something about her mouth. It’s too early to see what nose she’ll have.”

“I daresay she’ll look like her grandfather.”

“You’re certainly right. As long as she doesn’t start growing feathers. “

Horus laughed.

“That wasn’t meant to be funny.”

“I know. “ Horus turned his head to kiss Sanguinius. “It still sounds…well, never mind. Tomorrow we will talk about toys, and clothes, and nurses. And she needs a name.”

Sanguinius nodded. “On Baal, she’d be considered an orphan since she doesn’t have any physical parents and called Sanguinia. I’m not about to do that. I think we should just called her Haviva for now. It means “darling” in Secundan.”

“When would she receive a name?”

Sanguinius sat up. “If the three of us have a family-making ceremony, which is like a marriage between two adults and at least one child, she would be named at the ceremony.”

“Isn’t that a wedding?”

“A wedding joins two adults, who usually have children afterwards. A family-making joins adults to each other and a child at the same time.”

Horus considered. “That sounds appropriate.”

“I think so. I also think we need a wet nurse to feed Haviva during the night. I’ll ask among the legion serfs and human crew tomorrow.”

The baby finished eating, and Sanguinius tossed a towel over his shoulder to burp her. The procedure made Horus queasy, so he looked away. Sanguinius had tended plenty of babies growing up on Baal Secundus, for which Horus was infinitely grateful.

Once they were all settled down in bed, Horus watched Sanguinius fall asleep, as Horus often did. Horus, Sanguinius, and Haviva Lupercal. That could work. 

Someone else had to take care of the nappies and night-time feedings though. That was not negotiable.

***

Magnus’s single eye blazed with fury at the sight he beheld in Leman Russ’s mead-hall.

“WHAT IS MY DAUGHTER DOING WITH THAT ANIMAL?!”

Leman Russ took a long pull of mjod from his drinking horn. “Sleeping.”

“She is not to be raised by wolves!”

“Keep your voice down. Why not have her raised by Frigga here? Wolves take better care of their babies than many a human bitch.” Russ bent down on his fur-draped throne and patted the she-wolf on the head. “Skadhi’s fed twice already, and now she’s asleep with the other cubs.”

Magnus took in the scene. The she-wolf gave him a big doggy smile, clearly happy with her unconventional litter. The human baby was asleep in a onesie, nestled on her back with wolf pups on either side of her. He entered a low Enumeration and touched the baby’s mind. She was the model of contentment.

“Well…all right. But I came here to discuss custody arrangements.”

Russ gestured to a carved chair nearby and Magnus settled into it.

“It sounds as if you’ve already named her,” Magnus said.

“Skadhi. Goddess of skis, snow, and the hunt. When her father was killed by the Aesir, she threatened to destroy Valhalla itself.”

“I’m familiar with the tale. She also inflicts punishment on the traitor Loki.” Magnus kept his gaze on the baby. “I was thinking Miranda as a name, being a daughter of Prospero of course, but Skadhi is more active.”

“Skadhi Magnusdottir of the Russ,” the Wolf-King went on.

Magnus nodded. “That is generous of you.”

“She has nothing to be ashamed of with either of us as father.”

“I am just concerned for her safety if she goes to Fenris as an infant.”

“The cold is a murderer,” Russ admitted. “It’s turning to winter now, so I was thinking I might spend the next months here on Terra.”

“We are agreed on that, then.”

“What I picture,” Russ went on, accepting a refill on his horn, “is her spending the coldest months with you, and the warmest ones with me and my family. I am married; my wife is a rune-mistress named Sigrun. Little Skadhi would learn all the skills of her namesake, plus raising storms, using runes, and seidhr if she has a talent for it.”

“I think that sounds like a fine education,” Magnus said. “On Prospero she can learn the disciplines that the cults can teach her, along with the fine arts. Our families are extended ones, with many relatives being relatives by choice. It sounds as if she will never be lonely, that is certain.”

“Never. A person will die of loneliness on Fenris.”

“Then we have an agreement.”

“Aye. Although I’d be deeply grateful if you let her be raised by Frigga for a bit longer.”

Magnus smiled at the baby for a minute. “She is far too happy to disturb. Just make sure she stays clean, and I mean washing her in soap and water, not just dog spit.”

***

“What do we name her? Number One suggested ‘Leona’.”

“Number One is an idiot. Her name is Alpharius.”

“Good point.”

***

Ferrus Manus relaxed in the reclining chair he had in Fulgrim’s quarters. Felicity was dressed in tiny purple and pink pyjamas and lying on his bare chest. One of his warm silver hands rested on her back. From the look of the soft down on her scalp, she would have his dark hair, which was kind of a shame but to be expected. She would have Fulgrim’s dark eyes, it appeared. 

He wasn’t sure who was more beautiful, Felicity or Fulgrim.

“Well, her room is painted, but it’ll be a while before the paint is dry and we can put in furniture,” Fulgrim said as he bustled into the room. He was dressed in an old pair of black fatigues which was splattered with lavender paint. 

“Sounds good.”

“I’ve commissioned one of the remembrancers who is a wood-carver to make a crib in the shape of a swan,” Fulgrim went on. “There will be furniture to match; I’m going for a ballet theme for her room. I thought you might make her some toys, although Perturabo is the clockwork expert.”

Ferrus held up a battered and somewhat shapeless stuffed animal. “I found this.”

“Wooba.” Fulgrim walked over and took it from his partner’s hands. “I knew I had her somewhere around here.”

“She was in one of your storage chests from Chemos. I put her in the cradle with Felicity and she quieted right down. She knows her Da’s smell.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that a lavender room is wonderful, but it’s you and me holding her and letting her know we’re there for her that’ll make her a happy baby. “ Ferrus made room in the chair. “Take off your shirt and sit here with me. That’s what being a parent is about. Not how much stuff we can give her.”

Fulgrim pulled off his fatigue jacket and undershirt. He squeezed himself into the chair and against Ferrus. Felicity reached out a tiny hand for him and he placed his finger against her palm. Felicity gripped it with a strength that surprised him. Ferrus slipped the baby closer to her other father and they lay quietly together as a family.

***

By the next morning, Horus had decided upon a plan of action. When Sanguinius passed on an invitation for them to dine with Magnus and the Khan, Horus declined, claiming legion business to attend to.

Once Sanguinius had left with the baby, Horus departed for the commercial sections of the palace complex. He had a favourite jeweler from whom he’d commissioned many of the pieces he had gifted to Sanguinius in the past. Horus consulted with her and departed with a receipt in his pocket and schemes in his mind.

From there, Horus went to his office and consulted with the Mournival, giving them instructions and a timetable. He also called Ferrus and Fulgrim, who told him to leave logistics to them.

On the morning of the fourth day, Horus waited for Sanguinius on the wide terrasse outside Horus’s quarters. He’d left a note for Sanguinius explaining that breakfast would be there. When Sanguinius came through the sliding glass doors and saw what was outside, his expression made Horus know he’d done well.

“Is this…for me?” Sanguinius asked hesitantly.

Horus stood, holding his hands out to his friend. “It is. What do you think?”

Sanguinius took his hands and gazed around the terrasse. The breakfast table was under a white gossamer canopy, held up by an ornate white metal frame. The posts were wound with flower garlands in white, red, and yellow. The table was set with matching china, and there was a large pot of caf waiting to be consumed.

“I think it’s lovely. What’s the occasion?”

“What’s the occasion, he says,” Horus said teasingly. “We just became parents, silly feathered person."

“Where’s Haviva?”

“Ferrus and Fulgrim have her for the morning. They volunteered. I wanted a moment alone with you, because I do not think we have too many of them left. So.” 

Horus reached over to the table and picked up a flat jewelry box. “I commissioned another present for you.” He placed it in Sanguinius’s hand. The Angel opened it and reached inside to touch the cluster of individual pendants that hung from the main chain.

“They tell our story,” Horus explained. “Here’s the Luna Wolf, and here’s the Angel. This is a carnodon head, and here’s a spider, to commemorate a couple of our battles together. Last, here’s our daughter.”

Sanguinius smiled. “It’s very sweet.”

“It comes with one condition, though.”

“Oh?” Sanguinius looked curious, and his smile didn’t fade.

“It’s an engagement necklace. Will you marry me?”

Sanguinius’s mouth dropped open. Then he responded, “Let me answer with a question.” He reached into a pocket inside the sleeve of his robe and took out a small ring box. He held Horus’s hands in his own, looked into his eyes and asked, “Horus Lupercal, will you marry me?”

Horus leaned forward, kissed Sanguinius and said, “Yes.”

***

The Lupercal family-making was organized in ten days. Horus was heard grumbling about hoping for a grander event, but Sanguinius made it quite clear that the small-scale event was precisely what he wanted.

The ceremony was held in a terraced garden that gave the attendees an expansive view of the Himalayzias. The sky was bright blue and cloudless from the altitude. The garden was grassy and full of cedars and cypresses, with a few rare, twisted pines lending their fresh scent to the air. The primarchs were seated in a circle on carved, cushioned folding chairs with the ceremony taking place in the center. 

Armour had been strictly forbidden in the invitations. The music was provided by a harpist and flautist just outside the circle. Horus was attended by the Mournival and Sanguinius was accompanied by Raldoron and Azkaellon, neither of whom looked terribly happy about the event. Horus was dressed in a fantastic, high-collared tunic and trousers ensemble, rich with gold embroidery and symbols of his rank. In stark contrast, Sanguinius wore a red dalmatic embroidered with the Imperial Aquila and the Blood Angels crest over a white cassock. His wings sparkled with gold, rubies, and amber although his feet were bare on the grass. 

Horus carried their baby, who was wrapped in an ermine blanket. When the Emperor asked them what their daughter’s name was, Sanguinius and Horus responded in unison, “Her name is Juliana.”

Vows followed, to raise their daughter together, along with any children who might follow, and that no dispute between the two new parents would ever be allowed to harm the well-being of their child. The couple exchanged wide cuff bracelets, engraved with a monogram of their initials, and one was symbolically presented to Juliana. Horus and Sanguinius each kissed their baby, and Horus handed her to Garviel Loken so that Horus could take Sanguinius into his arms and give him the kiss that everyone was waiting for.  
They had been together for two centuries, and there were more than a few damp eyes around the circle. Perturabo was struggling not to let the moisture in his eyes roll down his cheeks. Beside him, Rogal Dorn noticed, but said nothing, filing away his observation for later consideration.


End file.
